FILM; The Nudist Buddhist Borderline-Abusive Love-In

Published: September 19, 2004

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The production has moved from the dried-up swamp to the set of the detectives' office. It is hot and cramped, and the hour is getting late. To pass the time while a shot is set up, Mr. Russell treats the crew to a description of a baby passing through the birth canal.

And then Ms. Tomlin is berating Mr. Russell again.

This time, the director turns on her angrily, calling her the crudest word imaginable, in front of the actors and crew. He shrieks: ''I wrote this role for you! I fought for you!'' Mr. Russell ends his tirade by sweeping his arm across a nearby table cluttered with production paraphernalia. He storms off the set and back on again, continually shouting. Then he locks himself in his office, refusing to return. After an uncomfortable, set-wide pause, Ms. Tomlin goes in to apologize, and Mr. Russell returns to the shoot.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a member of the crew has videotaped his tirade. The recording makes its way around the Hollywood talent agencies. Asked about the incident later, Mr. Russell says: ''Sure, I wish I hadn't done that. But Lily and I are fine.'' For her part, Ms. Tomlin admits that both she and Mr. Russell lost control. ''It's not a practice on his part or my part,'' she says. ''I'd rather have someone human and available and raw and open. Don't give me someone cold, or cut off, or someone who considers themselves dignified.''

This must be the Zen part.

Sept. 4, 2003: Roller-Coaster Party

The shoot finished earlier in the day, at 3:15 a.m. -- miraculously on schedule and on budget. For the wrap party on the Santa Monica Pier, the ''Huckabees'' production has taken over an amusement park along the Pacific, where Dustin Hoffman is chatting with his old pal, the producer Robert Evans, flanked by a couple of towering women whose assets spill out of their halter tops.

Mr. Russell is wandering around the pier in a grey suit and blue pinstripe shirt, unbuttoned, with a blinking red heart-necklace slung around his neck. Everyone else is playing arcade games and riding the roller coaster under a gentle black September sky. But the director seems to be in a kind of dazed dream state, and has been that way for about a week, he says. Usually, he says, ending a film brings a mixture of sadness and relief, but this time it's only sadness. He seems to be mourning the end of the free-wheeling universe of the ''Huckabees'' set; now he has to retreat to the solitude of an editing room to figure out exactly what his movie is. ''I told you,'' he tells a visitor, as if wondering how one could forget something he'd said in passing two months earlier. ''This was the happiest experience of my life.''

But there are murmurings of confusion as to how the movie will turn out, even among actors who trust Mr. Russell. ''I hope he has all the pieces,'' observes Talia Shire, leaving the party with her son, Jason Schwartzman.

July 26, 2004: Reality Check

It is a balmy night on the lot of Twentieth Century Fox and the Little Fox theater is packed with leading members of the cast, some crew, several agents, friends. Dustin Hoffman and his wife and children and their friends have come; so has a still golden-haired Jude Law and his parents. The theater hums with anticipation: it is Mr. Russell's first film in five years; he's locked himself in the editing room for an unusually long time; and though almost no one has yet seen the film, it is already being mentioned as a nominee for a best picture Oscar.

A half-hour late, Mr. Russell walks to the front of the theater wearing a blue suit, a red and white striped shirt and sneakers. Compared to the manic exuberance he displayed on set, he seems relatively subdued. ''Wake up, it's a comedy,'' he announces, even though his audience of insiders presumably knows as much. ''We're going to have an amphetamine mist,'' he tells the crowd, playing with a strand of hair.

No one -- even those involved with the film -- knows quite what to expect from it. What they see is a movie that is, well, dense. Emotionally dense, and intellectually so; jammed with ideas both profound and prosaic, thick with rapid-fire dialogue about human beings and the use of petroleum. But it's not quite the movie they shot. A few major scenes -- like the one in the car, which was supposed to explain the entire movie -- have been cut. As people file out of the theater, trying to find the words to describe the movie, executives from Fox Searchlight eagerly cull reactions. Does the movie play? Do the pieces fit? But it's hard to gauge the mood. Several audience members say they can't even decide if they liked the film or not.

Claudia Lewis, a production executive who has been a staunch proponent of the film, is hopeful and nervous. ''We are working on some original marketing ideas,'' she says. She and her colleagues know that this movie is not an easy sell.

It's not clear if Mr. Russell is picking up on the uncertainty in the air. A few days later, he sends a euphoric e-mail message about the screening. His words are rhapsodic and earnest; he seems to be channeling the same energy with which he directed the movie: ''It was such a swell night. Such good vibes in the air. I especially liked those who said the film affected them like a trippy reality drug.''

In fact, for a moment, Mr. Russell seems as if he's never left the set.

Photos: On the set of ''I Huckabees'': David O. Russell hanging out with Jude Law, above, and working out with Naomi Watts. (Photographs by Sharon Waxman/The New York Times)(pg. 1); Jason Schwartzmanand Mark Wahlberg, on bikes, being tracked by Lily Tomlin and Dustin Hoffman in ''I Huckabees.'' (Photo by Claudette Barius/Fox Searchlight); Jason Schwartzman and Jude Law tussle in ''I Huckabees.'' Opening Oct. 1, the offbeat comedy was directed by David O. Russell in his typically tempestuous style. (Photo by Claudette Barius/Fox Searchlight)(pg. 18)